landonm5
MuscleChemistry Registered Member
My Life as a Bodybuilder's Wife
I have a problem watching what I eat. I guess a lot of people do. Back in high school, I was a cheerleader and participated in many sports. Eating was never a problem. I was active and young. During my college years, I started to gain weight–oh the dreaded “freshman fifteen”. It was then that I really became aware of food and having to watch what I ate.
Nowadays, my metabolism is not what it used to be. This is a problem when I go out with friends who love to eat big chocolate desserts and other sinful treats. As a woman, I mistakenly thought women had the market cornered on the preoccupation with their weight and dieting. That quickly changed when I met my husband, the competitive bodybuilder. I’ll call him Mr. X.
When X and I first started dating, I had a strong, negative stereotype of the bodybuilder based on misconceptions. Though I knew bodybuilders spent many hours in the gym, I had no idea what kinds of sacrifices went into preparing for a show outside of the gym itself.
Bodybuilding, as I understand it now, is another word for compromise. The sport revolves around making compromises in many respects. Being married to a bodybuilder, I know I’ve met my husband in that gray area between “yes” and “no” many times. Our lives have been indelibly shaped by the culture of bodybuilding and food, among other things, has become a focal point in our lives.
X sets aside at least two hours a day, four days a week for the gym. That doesn’t include the extra time for cardio as contest time nears. In addition to scrutinizing his shape and form, he must also pay strict attention to what he eats. Since he works during the day, as each day starts, my husband needs to have no fewer than six meals prepared and ready to go. Fortunately, we follow similar schedules. We’re both early risers. Each night, we prepare the next day’s meals.
A bodybuilder’s meals usually consist of the basics–lots of it: protein, carbs and some fat in the form of essential fatty acids (like flax oils). A typical meal will consist of steamed white rice, chicken breast or turkey, and some steamed vegetables. I’ve known bodybuilders to eat this same kind of meal for weeks on end. Now that’s what I call a major sacrifice. If my husband is preparing for a show, the right portions of these various foods become critical as does preparation. It’s not enough to guess how many grams a portion of chicken weighs. We weigh it to be sure.
For X, skipping meals is worse than having a meal that’s high in fat and sugar. Food, for a bodybuilder, is a lifeline. It connects him to his training, to his goals. For many of us, food is a way to make ourselves feel good. We get pleasure out of eating. Imagine eating as work or eating to be prepared. Proper meals, therefore, are one of the foundations for success. That’s why six meals are prepared in the event that my husband gets caught in traffic or has to stay late at the office. On countless occasions, he has had to eat his meals with a fork in one hand and a steering wheel in the other. Food takes a backseat to no one, especially a bodybuilder.
Having to eat a meal every two hours places some big and small demands on us. Some people take their briefcase to work every morning. For others, it is a medical bag, or a hard hat. For X, it’s his food cooler. No matter where he goes, whether it’s work or shopping, he has to take his cooler. Now it doesn’t seem like such a sacrifice until we start going to parties with that cooler in tow. Now you know what I’m talking about when I use the word “compromise”.
We’ve been to many social parties where X has eaten out of the cooler. Those who know us understand this simple fact of life and have been very gracious. Every now and then, we manage to offend the host and hostess. Many people aren’t willing or capable of understand the kinds of choices bodybuilders make. While everyone is eating birthday cake, my husband is stuck with his protein. While the birthday boy or girl is blowing out the candles, he is taking in water.
As a woman, I’ve often dealt with the insecurities of my body. I’ve scrutinized it in front of the mirror. Let’s face it, women are tough on themselves. They often grow up with mothers telling them not to eat so much. We’re conditioned from an early age to hide our appetites. We starve ourselves to stay thin. My husband is not much different. As a bodybuilder, he’s critical of every inch of his body, every striation and curve. When eating, he even has critics. During the offseason, friends and acquaintances often ask him, “Should you be eating that?” I personally know how much pressure this can put on someone.
Being married to a bodybuilder has taught me many lessons about prematurely judging people (I’ll leave prejudging to the judges). Bodybuilders are certainly a unique bunch. Being on the front lines with one can be exhilarating and stressful at the same time. Preparing for a contest can feel like getting ready for a battle. My relationship with has also reminded me about our intimate and intricate relationship with food. For some, food is about sharing, a communal act between friends and family. For others, it’s about living, a necessary task not unlike breathing. For us, it’s about compromise, sacrifice and that fine line between loving and living.
Universal
I have a problem watching what I eat. I guess a lot of people do. Back in high school, I was a cheerleader and participated in many sports. Eating was never a problem. I was active and young. During my college years, I started to gain weight–oh the dreaded “freshman fifteen”. It was then that I really became aware of food and having to watch what I ate.
Nowadays, my metabolism is not what it used to be. This is a problem when I go out with friends who love to eat big chocolate desserts and other sinful treats. As a woman, I mistakenly thought women had the market cornered on the preoccupation with their weight and dieting. That quickly changed when I met my husband, the competitive bodybuilder. I’ll call him Mr. X.
When X and I first started dating, I had a strong, negative stereotype of the bodybuilder based on misconceptions. Though I knew bodybuilders spent many hours in the gym, I had no idea what kinds of sacrifices went into preparing for a show outside of the gym itself.
Bodybuilding, as I understand it now, is another word for compromise. The sport revolves around making compromises in many respects. Being married to a bodybuilder, I know I’ve met my husband in that gray area between “yes” and “no” many times. Our lives have been indelibly shaped by the culture of bodybuilding and food, among other things, has become a focal point in our lives.
X sets aside at least two hours a day, four days a week for the gym. That doesn’t include the extra time for cardio as contest time nears. In addition to scrutinizing his shape and form, he must also pay strict attention to what he eats. Since he works during the day, as each day starts, my husband needs to have no fewer than six meals prepared and ready to go. Fortunately, we follow similar schedules. We’re both early risers. Each night, we prepare the next day’s meals.
A bodybuilder’s meals usually consist of the basics–lots of it: protein, carbs and some fat in the form of essential fatty acids (like flax oils). A typical meal will consist of steamed white rice, chicken breast or turkey, and some steamed vegetables. I’ve known bodybuilders to eat this same kind of meal for weeks on end. Now that’s what I call a major sacrifice. If my husband is preparing for a show, the right portions of these various foods become critical as does preparation. It’s not enough to guess how many grams a portion of chicken weighs. We weigh it to be sure.
For X, skipping meals is worse than having a meal that’s high in fat and sugar. Food, for a bodybuilder, is a lifeline. It connects him to his training, to his goals. For many of us, food is a way to make ourselves feel good. We get pleasure out of eating. Imagine eating as work or eating to be prepared. Proper meals, therefore, are one of the foundations for success. That’s why six meals are prepared in the event that my husband gets caught in traffic or has to stay late at the office. On countless occasions, he has had to eat his meals with a fork in one hand and a steering wheel in the other. Food takes a backseat to no one, especially a bodybuilder.
Having to eat a meal every two hours places some big and small demands on us. Some people take their briefcase to work every morning. For others, it is a medical bag, or a hard hat. For X, it’s his food cooler. No matter where he goes, whether it’s work or shopping, he has to take his cooler. Now it doesn’t seem like such a sacrifice until we start going to parties with that cooler in tow. Now you know what I’m talking about when I use the word “compromise”.
We’ve been to many social parties where X has eaten out of the cooler. Those who know us understand this simple fact of life and have been very gracious. Every now and then, we manage to offend the host and hostess. Many people aren’t willing or capable of understand the kinds of choices bodybuilders make. While everyone is eating birthday cake, my husband is stuck with his protein. While the birthday boy or girl is blowing out the candles, he is taking in water.
As a woman, I’ve often dealt with the insecurities of my body. I’ve scrutinized it in front of the mirror. Let’s face it, women are tough on themselves. They often grow up with mothers telling them not to eat so much. We’re conditioned from an early age to hide our appetites. We starve ourselves to stay thin. My husband is not much different. As a bodybuilder, he’s critical of every inch of his body, every striation and curve. When eating, he even has critics. During the offseason, friends and acquaintances often ask him, “Should you be eating that?” I personally know how much pressure this can put on someone.
Being married to a bodybuilder has taught me many lessons about prematurely judging people (I’ll leave prejudging to the judges). Bodybuilders are certainly a unique bunch. Being on the front lines with one can be exhilarating and stressful at the same time. Preparing for a contest can feel like getting ready for a battle. My relationship with has also reminded me about our intimate and intricate relationship with food. For some, food is about sharing, a communal act between friends and family. For others, it’s about living, a necessary task not unlike breathing. For us, it’s about compromise, sacrifice and that fine line between loving and living.
Universal
